Scene One, Take One: New York City
by foxdvd
Summary: That was the end of her tirade. And the end of his restraint, as well.


**A/N: ** I know I haven't been around for a whilst, but real life simply doesn't get that writing is as vital as eating… or working in order to be able to eat. Anyway, this dark plot bunny kept hounding me for the past couple of weeks, so here it is.

**A/N2: ** This one's rated M for language, drunken behaviour and sex. Don't say I didn't warn you. If you have issues regarding older women confident in their sexuality and calling the shots, perhaps this story ain't right for you.

Xxx XXX xxX

She knew he was inside her place even before she closed the door. Damn him and his overprotective nature, she thought. Deciding that a good defensive was the best offensive given the circumstances, she decided to confront him head first.

"How did you get into my apartment?" she demanded.

He was a bit taken aback, but damn if he was going to let her get away with murder this time. "I used the spare key YOU gave me."

"I thought I said you could use it in case of an emergency…" she muttered, more to herself than to him.

"That's what you said."

"So what's the emergency?"

Damn woman. She was going to make him spell it out for her out loud, just to make him squirm. He wasn't going to give her that satisfaction.

"Well, given the fact that it is," he checked his watch, "5 in the morning, and that we have to be at work in two hours, and that you haven't answered any of your phones, I came here to check if you were okay."

"Funny, I don't remember appointing you my keeper."

That did it. He had been trying to play nice, but if she insisted on behaving like a bitch, well, he had no problem treating her like one. "Call it selfish self-preservation. We're supposed to be partners, and I'd rest more at ease knowing that you're up to the task of keeping my back."

He took two steps towards her. His nostrils flared in recognition and jealousy, and the words were out of his mouth before he could think better about it. "But since you reek of booze and sex, I'm not so sure it would be wise to trust you."

He expected righteous indignation, the sting of her slap, the hasty denial… everything but what he got.

"What is it to you if I'm getting my brains fucked out in the middle of the night? Why is it that you always have to screw up my life?"

She began pacing the living room, seemingly unaware of the effect her words were having on him.

"All I wanted was to get drunk or to get laid, whichever happened first. Is it really too much to ask? I mean, really? Getting away from reality for a couple of hours is that too much to ask?"

He looked at her with his mouth open. He had always admired her strength and wondered more than once how she managed to deal with death day in and day out without loosing it. Now he knew, and he wasn't sure that knowledge was something he cared to posses.

She kept on talking, not caring if he followed her or not.

"Of course, sex is always better than alcohol. Endorphins and all that shit that makes you feel happy. Plus, no hangover to deal with the next day. On the other hand, you can get a stiff drink in any bar you walk into. No such luck with a stiff cock. Too many questions asked. Too many suspicions aroused."

She stopped her ramblings long enough to invade his personal space. "I thought you guys craved a no-strings-attached one-night-stand scenario, but no. Damn, it wasn't so hard back in my college years. All you had to do back then is whisper into someone's ear "Let's fuck" and you'd be getting banged in less than 20 minutes…"

She moved back a bit and continued, not waiting to see if he had something to say. He, on the other hand, was still too shocked about seeing this side of her that was rendered speechless. However, the conversation was taking its toll and he could feel his own cock stirring to life. Given the circumstances, he didn't know if that was a good thing or a very bad one.

"Tonight I thought it was going to be different. I was on my second drink when I saw him. A nice, clean cut looking fellow who seemed to be looking for the same thing I was. I smiled at him, and sure enough, he approached me. Before I finished my drink we had agreed to meet in the alley at the back of the bar…"

She stopped long enough to notice his reaction.

"Don't you dare judge me! You hypocrite… as if you had never had sex in the back alley or in the back of your car with a perfect stranger. Oh, I forgot. You're MALE… you're entitled to do it. I'm female, therefore I'm not supposed to have a sexual identity, is that it? IS THAT IT???"

He grabbed her wrist before she could hit him square in the chest. "What you do with your private life is none of my business."

Liar.

"If you wanna spend your evenings cruising bars, picking up strangers and fucking your brains out, as you so graphically put it, is of no interest to me. I ain't gonna screw your choice in an..."

"LIAR!!!"

He was taken aback by the ferocity of her scream, but kept good hold of her wrists.

"Don't you dare say you don't mess with my screwing, or screw with my messing around cause you do. You screw up EVERYTHING! Everything! Tonight was perfect! He didn't ask for my name, he didn't ask what I do for a living… can you believe that? He didn't ask about my job! I was in heaven…"

He thought about it for a second. He could sympathize with her predicament. He had had his share of weird looks and girls having to "go powder their noses" to understand just how hard it was to get a date, or get laid, in their line of work. Yeah, he'd probably have felt in heaven, too, had he been in her place…

"He wasn't a very good lover, truth be told, but you can't be too picky when you're picking up guys in a bar now, can you?" Her admission made his own jealousy roar in his ears, but it also made him horny as hell. Damn if he admitted it, but hearing her tell him about her sex-capade was a huge turn on. His cock was twitching and he had to resist the urge to pull her close and devour her mouth.

"Not that I really cared, I was getting fucked and for some precious minutes, death was the farthest thing form my mind. There were no suspects, no bad guys, no pervs, no bodies… all there was was this somewhat acceptable cock pushing in and out of me, making me forget, and I was feeling good…"

"… and then you had to screw everything!"

What the fuck?

"How could I screw everything up if I didn't even know where you were? You had your cell turned off, so it wasn't as if I interrupted you mid-fuck…"

"You. It was your fault. It was your name I said out loud while I was fucking another man… needless to say he didn't take it well…."

He was shocked by the admission. She kept on talking about how fragile men's egos were and how immature of him to expect otherwise if they had just met 10 minutes ago, but he was stuck on her previous sentence. "It was your name I said out loud". What did that mean? Did she…? Nah, impossible. But then again…

"You are not listening to a word I've said," she accused him. "See how all this is all your fault? I could be in bed now, still feeling good from the mix of orgasm and alcohol, but no. You had to pop out of my mouth and ruin everything. And then… then you show up here and for what? To scold me cause you think I'm too drunk to be of any use. And you dare call yourself my friend…"

His rationale and his libido were both running towards the entrance of his mind, and he was afraid the later one would win. And then everything would be screwed up for good. His cock was screaming to be let out of his boxers, space having been drastically reduced in the last minutes, and he was painfully aware of her smell (Arousal no. 5) and her wrists still in his hands, and her hands burning holes in his chest and he prayed, oh he prayed for composure. "She's drunk; she doesn't mean any of this. She's drunk, she doesn't mean any of this, She's drunk, she doesn't…" was his mantra, said over and over again in a vain effort to give his rationale a bit of advantage in an otherwise lost battle.

"If you really cared for me you'd be fucking me against this wall instead of just looking at me with this stupid look of lust in your face and a hard cock stuck in your pants!"

That was the end of her tirade.

And the end of his restraint.

Still holding her wrists, he was quick to turn her around, her back against the wall, his body pressing unto hers. He made sure she felt him, all of him, flushed against her.

"Is this what you want? Hmm, is it?" His whisper barely containing the force of his desire, his cock rubbing shamelessly against her. She responded by fiercely attacking his mouth with her own, biting his lower lip, pressing herself hard against him. He grabbed her shoulders hard, harder than he had intended, and separated her from him.

"Answer me, dammit! Is this what you really want? A hard, anonymous fuck against the wall?"

She looked at him with feral intensity… and then she broke down, sobbing, falling into his arms.

He gathered her broken figure, picking her up gently, moving quietly to her room, lying down in her bed still clutching her in his arms.

"Shhh… it's okay…. It's okay…. I'm here… everything is going to be okay…" he repeated over and over again, placing gentle kisses on her forehead, her temples, her wet eyelids. She clutched unto him as if her whole life depended on not letting go, her sobs still wrecking her whole body, for once not caring if he thought of her as weak or needy… or human.

His lips gently brushed against her nose bridge, her cheeks and her lips, too soft to be a kiss and too needful to be a caress, but nonetheless, just perfect for what she needed just then. A thousand back alleys could have never given her the peace of mind a single one of his kisses had granted her in a second. He moved away from her face and her whole self shuddered at the lack of contact.

"Please," she whispered, "please, I need…. I need…"

"Shhh…" he said, placing a finger over her lips to quiet her request. "I know what you need. Let me take care of you…"

He didn't want anything more right then and there than to rip the clothes off both their bodies and sink his cock deep inside her pussy, thrusting away as if there were no tomorrow, but that was exactly the problem. There was a tomorrow for them, and given her what she wanted was the shortest route to destroy them both. He wasn't a faceless fuck against a wall. He was a man insanely in love with her, willing to give her the whole world if she asked for it… everything except that fuck right then and there. She needed her release and he'd give it to her, but not in a way that would destroy them both for good. Life was already too damn complicated as it was to be adding another layer of uncertainty, another brick or two on the walls they built around their humanity in order to preserve their sanity, another sheet of steel between them, welded with the million things they wanted to tell each other, but never did.

And probably never would.

Still holding her close, her back to his chest, he moved his right hand to her belly, and gently undid the button and lowered the zipper of her jeans. Her breathing was now hitched, partly due to the exertion of her emotional break down, partly due to the heightened state of sexual tension and frustration she had been harboring for only God knew how long. Gently, as if she were some precious object that would break too easily, he slid his hand underneath her panties and began caressing her curls, edging closer and closer to her clit. She laid slack, unable to move, mustering all her energy in spreading her legs and holding unto his left arm as if it were a life saving device. HER life saving device.

He wasn't surprised to find her wet and willing, and pushed two fingers inside her effortlessly, whilst his thumb played circles on her clit. He knew she had been waiting for her release for too long, so her orgasm wouldn't take long. And it would be good, but it wouldn't be great. Great would be if he went down on her, and drank in her moisture and lapped and nipped his way into her heaven. Even greater would be if he would slid his cock into her pussy before she had come back from her orgasm, making her ride the waves of a second, a third, even a fourth with carefully measured thrusts. The fifth… the fifth would come almost as an afterthought, when he let loose and began thrusting in earnest, searching for his own release…

The image was so clear in his mind he could almost feel it… his cock twitched once more and his fingers moved in deeper. Better not to go there just now, not with her whimpering his name and bucking her hips as her inner walls clenched tighter and tighter around his fingers. He reconsidered his previous appreciation and decided that, given the circumstances, she'd have to make do with just 3 orgasms per session… no way in hell he was gonna last that long with a grip as tight as hers. Maybe, in time, he'd manage to up the ante to four… and that was a long-shot maybe. He had the disquieting feeling she was the kind of woman that can make a man come just by looking at him in a certain way…

When her orgasm hit, he was a tad surprised. He had expected something loud and wild, with lots of screaming and thrashing around and swearing… something downright porno. But she came in an almost ladylike manner: a stiffening of her muscles, eyes opening wide, hands clutching whatever material was available… the only sound that fell from her mouth was his name, pronounced with a devotion worthy of a religious temple. His name, repeated over and over as in prayer, whilst her pussy contracted and swelled around his fingers.

His name.

It was music to his ears, balm to his soul, food for his ego, material for his late-night fantasies. It was all he had longed to hear, and the sweet cruelty of it all was that he might never hear it again. Once was not enough, and once was all he'd have, unless…

She collapsed in his arms and he removed his fingers from her pussy. He allowed himself one brief moment of guilty weakness and quickly sucked on them, closing his eyes, relishing her taste. He could easily become addicted to it and he wouldn't have minded one bit. Her mumbled words brought him back to his reality, twisted as it was, and he proceeded to hold her and pet her and kiss her forehead until she went completely lax and he was sure she was asleep, with a sated smile on her face.

He thought about it for a moment and he felt some sort of pride. After all, it had been his name on her lips both times, and it was him who had put that smile on her face just now. He wished he could gloat, walk into their workplace and proclaim he had given her an orgasm, that she had pronounced his name during her most intimate moment, and that she had fallen asleep in his arms…

The alarm clock's shrilling alarm brought them both to reality.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" she muttered under her breath, trying to hide under a pillow, quickly jerking back when she realized she wasn't alone. Her eyes grew big, realization and doubt hitting on her at the same time.

"What… uh…?"

"Happened? Nothing, What am I still doing here? Nothing, really. What is going to happen? Once again, nothing, not until we're ready, and that, we both know, might never happen. What are we going to do just now? You are going to get into the shower, I'm going to get your coffee machine started and then I'll head home."

He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head before getting up from the bed. "Move it, sleepy head. I'll see you in the office in an hour. Don't be late, okay?"

She nodded in silence and hurried to the bathroom, not wanting to face him, at least, not yet. She hoped the water, the cold shower she was about to take, would help her clear up her mind and decided if she hadn't fucked up their relationship beyond a salvaging point. She turned around when she heard him call out her name.

"Yes?"

"Just promise me something…"

"Yes?"

"No more back alleys, okay? I don't want you taking unnecessary risks. Should you need some… should you need anything… just hit the 2 on your speed dial, okay?"

And with that, he was gone.

Xxx XXX xxX

**A/N: **Are you sure you KNOW who they are?


End file.
